


I'll Always Save You

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hux is Not Nice, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Ben Solo, M/M, Mind Games, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sad!Leia, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo has been captured by the Empire and all fear that he will be tortured for information. But Emperor Hux has plans beyond that simple need. No, Hux knows what he wants, and it's more than a few scraps of useless news about the Resistance. </p>
<p>It's Ben Solo, body and soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Always Save You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this [tfa_kink prompt](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/4613.html?thread=10689541#cmt10689541)
>
>> Hux has risen as Emperor, and leads the First Order against the vile Resistance. During a particularly fruitful raid, he manages to capture Ben Solo, known Force user and son of the leader of the Resistance.But what do to with him?  
> Hux takes one look at him, admires the eight pack, and decides to mix business and pleasure.
>> 
>> After several months of torture, brainwashing, drugs and various other techniques, Ben Solo is finally broken, becoming a perfectly docile pet for Emperor Hux. He sits at the Emperor's feet, leans into his caresses, uses the Force on the Emperor's commands. He is often seen with love bites and hickeys, proclaims his loyalty to the Emperor freely. (If anyone notices how oddly rehearsed he sounds, like it was a lesson drilled into him, they wisely say nothing.)
> 
> Art by [@artyaouter](http://artyaourter.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Now with a new mini-fic in the end notes!

Leia is at her desk when the report comes in, datapad blinking frantically at her with a priority transmission. She sighs, flicks the screen. There's a whir as the message opens, a flicker as a holo springs into life, hovering above the pad. It's Poe Dameron, eyes frantic and panting hard enough that she can hear it even through the poor quality holo.

“General Organa!” Poe sounds panicked, voice breaking on her name. Leia sits forward. Poe is always in control, always laughing and cheerful. “I... they attacked Polis Massa.” Leia's own breath catches. No need to ask who they are. The First Order has been expanding rapidly, ever since the reports had trickled in about an supposed coup, the disappearance of the First Order's Supreme Leader and the sudden rise of the now-Emperor Hux. Poe's eyes are wild now, face filling the holo.

“General Organa... I... they took Ben.” And his voice breaks, the holo flickers off. Leia doesn't see it, can't see it. There's nothing before her eyes, nothing except for blind terror. Her son. Taken. Gone. Somehow overcome, despite being a Jedi, a Solo, a Skywalker. Gone.

***

Hux stares through the small window built into the cell wall, through the triple wall of transparisteel that separates him from the Jedi on the other side. Ben Organa Solo is a pretty man, strange soft features and an oddly twisted mouth. He's also curled in on himself, knees up to his chest as he sits on the small bed that is the only furniture in the room. It does nothing to hide his size, the ripples of muscle bulging under his tight undershirt. The interrogators stripped him down to it and his thin leggings long ago, and there are thin red lines snaking out from underneath the shirt, lines that must be coppery sharp and wet to the touch.

The interrogators have gotten nowhere with him.

Hux isn't surprised. Solo isn't going to break after a few sessions with some spatter-happy young officers. This is going to take patience. He smiles through the window. This is going to take a more personal touch. And one look at the man, stripped and struggling as Force-dampening cuffs were slapped onto each of his wrists, was enough that Hux has decided it's _his_ personal touch that is required.

He strokes one hand across the glass, imagines he's stroking it down those incredible abs that Solo is hiding beneath that thin shirt. Yes, this will be his personal project. And he's going to enjoy every minute of it.

***

The next few months pass without another word about Ben. Leia expects an announcement almost immediately, expects the First Order to crow about how they've captured Ben Organa Solo. But there's no word until suddenly, one day, Major Teslin Brance rushes into her office, datapad clutched in one hand.

“General, we've found something” And Leia knows what that means, knows what the feeling jumping in her chest has to be. Ben. The datapad clatters on the desk as Brance bends down beside her, his voice going soft. “He's alive, General. You may not want to watch the recording though.” Leia squints up at him. Brance is a solid solider, but this he'll never understand. Nothing, nothing, could keep her from watching the proof her son still lives.

The recording looks to be pirated security footage, grainy and distorted. Yet there is Ben, curled on the floor in the corner of an empty cell. Leia gasps. He's lying on one side, arms wrapped tight around himself. If she didn't remember every inch of his skin, every mole and mark that screams Ben, she might not recognize him. There are long welts running down his sides, bright and raw even in the security footage. His skin is a mass of bruises, even what might be burns running down his arms to the thick bracelets clamped tight around his wrists. Worse, she can't see his face. There's a hood pulled tight around his head, the only piece of fabric he's wearing. A sliver of light creeps across the recording, a door opening somewhere out of view of the recorder. A uniformed man makes his way into the room.

Hux.

It's the supposed Emperor himself, quick strides leaking purpose as he crosses the cell to Ben's side. Leia draws in a breath. She doesn't know if she can watch this, can watch her son being tortured and beaten, watch him bleed. Hux is squatting down next to Ben now, partially obscuring the view from the security recorder. Then there's a sharp movement, and he's sprawled on his ass, Ben looming above him. Leia gives an involuntary little noise, a chirp of surprise as she sees that Hux has pulled off the hood. Ben's face is tear streaked, even in the poor recording, his eyes wild. He looms for a second, towering over Hux as the Emperor slumps on the floor.

But then he's sitting back, knees to his chest, wrapping himself into a ball.

And Leia doesn't understand, doesn't know why her Ben, brash and loud and too quick to attack, is huddling in on himself. And she doesn't know why the Emperor is kneeling beside him, one hand reaching out towards Ben. And Hux is wiping at the tear tracks on Ben's face, running a hand through Ben's hair. Ben's nodding, and Hux must be saying something to him. There's no audio, and so Leia can't even hear Ben's response. But Hux is standing, walking out of the room. And Ben is looking after him with an odd expression on his face, something that might be longing.

There's a long moment of stillness in the recording, the only movement Ben rocking himself slightly. Then all of a sudden there's a man in the room with him, and Ben's toppling over as a booted foot slams into his ribs. And the hood is back on and the recording ends.

Leia only notices her tears after she wipes at the odd moisture painting the datapad.

***

Ben Organa Solo is an interesting creature. At first Hux hadn't even gone in the room, hadn't let Ben know he was watching. He'd given the interrogators weeks to work with him, a month to paint their anger across his skin, to twist him into something shrinking and cowering.

And then had come the moment when he'd stroked a hand through Solo's hair, and whispered soft words in his ear. And another month passed. And now he knows Solo has learned his walk, can recognize him even through the hood that covers his face any time Hux is not there. He can see it in the way that he relaxes as Hux comes into the room, the way he has stopped shrinking away from Hux's hand in his hair, the way he looks up at Hux when Hux leaves.

Hux likes that look.

And so he's been spending time with Solo, whispering to him in that blank cell, imagining what he's going to get to do when this is all through with. Because those are pretty pictures indeed.

He's at the cell now, glances in through the window. Solo sits propped against a wall, legs stretched out in front of him. He's hooded, as he always is, naked except for the black shroud across his face. Hux takes a moment to admire the constellation of bruises painting his skin, the way that his ribs stand out a little more after all these months. The greens and blues are beautiful on Solo's pale skin.

He nods, and one of the stormtroopers opens the cell. Solo starts as Hux walks in, then relaxes, a soft whimper escaping. Hux smiles. He's going to make such a good pet.

“Ben?” He asks, voice soft. “Ben, I'm going to take the hood off now. Close your eyes.” And then he's reaching out, tracing his fingers up that strong neck to loosen the ties that hold the hood tight to Solo's face.

There are no tears today, and Hux is strangely disappointed. He shrugs it off though. He'll see Solo tomorrow, make sure that the interrogators know he wants the man just a little more broken then usual. He strokes a hand across the other man's face anyway, feeling at the rough stubble on his cheeks. A man comes to shave Solo once every few days, but Hux like him like this, sloppy and a little unkempt. It's so unlike the image of a Jedi, of a perfect ascetic warrior. Solo nuzzles a little at Hux's hand, aching for the touch. It's been a week and a half since Hux was here, and he's made sure that Solo hasn't felt a kind touch in all that time. The man is almost purring now, face pressed into Hux palm. When Hux draws away, there's another soft whimper.

“Have you been a good boy, Ben? I don't think you have. They tell me you still haven't said anything.” Solo's face freezes, his eyes going wide. Hux chuckles a little. Solo is still holding out, and it's almost certain his information will be useless at this point, if they ever manage to wrest if from him through physical torture. The Resistance isn't stupid enough to believe Solo will hold out indefinitely. Hux knows, of course, that this is not about the information, has never been about the information, but he's certain that Solo hasn't figured that out.

“Ben, you know what will happen if you tell,” Hux leans closer, rests a hand on Solo's chest as he whispers into his neck. “They'll never come back. I'll take you away from them and you can stay with me. I have a bed, you know. I might even let you sleep in it. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ben?” Ben nods frantically as Hux pulls back, eyes wide. Hux smiles down at him, smiles at something that is almost his. Then he stands, makes as though to walk away. Except he can't.

Solo's hand is clasped around his ankle.

Hux sees red. Solo is touching him. He's fucking touching Hux without permission and it's... He hardly feels his hand swinging out, the crack of his palm against Solo's cheek almost a surprise. But it's hot under his fingers, and Hux like the feel, likes the way that Solo stares up at him, panicked.

“Don't presume you can touch me, Ben. Don't fucking presume.” And he's out the door in an instant. But he lingers at the window, watches as Solo curls in on himself, as he buries his head between his knees. And the tear streaks are finally there, the lines down his face that Hux wanted so badly.

***

Hux doesn't visit again for two weeks. He looks in of course. There's a surveillance camera in Solo's cell, and he's gotten the feed routed to his personal datapad. And so he's started watching for a little before bed each night.

It's relaxing. Sometimes it's nothing more than Solo curled in a corner, hunched in on himself, arms wrapped tight about his bruised ribs. But sometimes it's more, a show in colors of crimson and steel grey.

Those are the times Hux likes best.

Solo scuttles into the corner now each time the door swings open, knows it won't be Hux with a soft caress. And even though Hux has left strict instructions: Solo needs to stay relatively in one piece, cannot be permanently damaged, the interrogators have been getting more creative.

Just the other night, Hux had pulled up the feed to see one of them with Solo spread out on a table, tied spread eagle, naked as he always is except for the hood hiding his face. At first Hux couldn't figure out what was going on. But then he'd seen the empty vial on the counter, the thin metal spikes clasped tight in the interrogator's hand. And Solo has writhed against the bonds, each scrape of the spikes agony with the sense enhancing drug the interrogator had used. It was a brilliant way of inflicting pain without leaving more than a few stray marks.

Solo is beautiful when he screams.

So Hux watches him, watches as he is remade under the interrogators' clever fingers. And he waits. Waits until Solo can't be expecting him to come back. Waits until Solo believes himself completely abandoned to the interrogators.

When he finally steps back in the room, Solo starts to shrink away. But then Hux makes a soft sound, and Solo starts.

“It's ok, Ben. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you.” Hux keeps his voice even, kind, clear. And Solo is relaxing a little, uncoiling, breathing evening out. “I'm going to take the hood off now, alright? Keep your eyes shut.” And it's the first time Solo has had the hood off in weeks, except for the short minutes he's give twice a day to eat. And he's breathing hard as Hux slides soft fingers up his face to push off the hood.

“Look, Ben, it's me. I'm here for you, just as I always will be. You're mine now, Ben.” And Solo smiles up at him, eyes blinking in the bright. “Are you sorry for what you did, Ben? Have you learned your lesson?”

The first sound out of Solo's mouth is a hoarse whimper, incoherent, broken. Hux pets lightly at his hair, smooths a finger over the his adams apple. It's the screaming, Hux knows. That's why Solo can't speak, which he's swallowing again, working his mouth.

“Y-yes. I... I'm sorry.” And it's not as sincere as Hux would like, he knows it's two weeks of isolation, no touch but that of the interrogators, but he's learning, he's learning. So he reaches out, wipes Solo's watering eyes. And Hux is kneeling next to him, brushing soft lips over the corner of his forehead.

“Oh Ben, don't worry. I'll be here for you, don't worry. I know you can be good for me. I know you can do it.” And Solo whimpers, tears spilling down his face, and he's curling in to Hux's shoulder, close, warm. Hux presses soft lips into his hair, whispers into his ear. “You know, Ben. You know what you have to do, and then you can be with me always. No hood, no interrogators. Just me, and you.” And then he stands, walks out, Solo still crying on the floor.

***

Leia buries her head in her hands, bends over the desk. It's been months. She hasn't heard her son's voice in person in months. She hasn't stroked a hand down his face, hugged tight around him, pressed her face into his chest as he swings her into the air. And she's starting to wonder if she ever will.

The datapad is still bright in front of her, recording open. And she knows she shouldn't activate it again, knows she doesn't need to look. But it's the only chance, the only time she's seen him, and she can't help herself, taps a finger, plays the program again.

Ben is stretched across a chair, a black hood snug tight around his face. He's stripped to the waist, bare except for the Force-dampening cuffs around his wrists, and Leia's heart breaks a little for the welts that crisscross his chest. There's man in the corner of the security footage, stalking forward to stand next to Ben. And Ben shrinks away as much as he can, bound hand and foot as he is.

It's strange, to see her strong son cringing, squirming away from the man leaning over him. And it's hard, so hard, not to try to reach through the screen, to save Ben from the knife, from the flail, from the iron. Fingers twitch, hands tremble.

The man bends forward, must say something, for Ben squirms further away.

And then, then there's a knife flashing out, a bright slash of blood on Ben's chest. A new mark on her beautiful boy's skin, a slice through the edges of her heart. And she knows she's breathing hard, panting out horror, anticipation. And there's another slice Ben's torso, along his bones, across Leia heart.

And then, then the moment that Leia has been dreading, hoping for.

There's a flash of movement, a man shoving the interrogator out of the way. And then there are hands on his body, staunching the blood, wiping away the pain that Leia can't touch. There are quick fingers working the buckles that hold Ben to the table.

And then, then, she sees his face. And she doesn't think she'd ever imagined Ben could look like this before. It's a shock, even on the third watch. His eyes are wide, staring. And then he's surging upward, grabbing tight to the man next to him.

Red hair flashes, even in the grainy security recording, and then Ben is in the man's arms, gathered to his chest. Sobbing. And there are hands running down and over his back and Leia wants to rip them away.

Rip them off.

But that's the whisper of the Dark side, and Leia knows how to quiet it. She can't quiet the voice that's screaming in her head that she has to do something, anything. But all she can do is watch as her son cries into the Emperor's shoulder, and the Emperor smiles down at him, sharp and knowing.

***

Ben doesn't know how long it's been since the interrogators were there last.

His ribs ache.

He thinks someone kicked them.

Maybe.

It's dull.

It's the cuffs, he knows it.

And there's someone in the room with him again. A whisper in the dark that is Ben's world now. And there's someone near him. He shrinks away, tries so hard to escape. But he can't, he never can now. And there's something cold on his shoulder, a pinprick, the rush of something through his veins.

The world bends.

There's something sharper about it now, this dark that is Ben's home. It's realer, fuller, pressing in on him like the Force. But it isn't the Force, because that isn's his anymore, not with the cuffs clamped around his wrists. And there are echoes through his mind, as though the world is fuller and trying to hold him tighter.

He screams.

There's a blinding pain through his arm, and for some reason he can't hide away from it like he usually does. It's touching his heart this time, his very deepest being, and tearing him into pieces. The world warps around him, hard.

And he doesn't know how to get away. And there's nothing he can do.

And he screams again, his voice echoing, strange, booming, not his, a warping sound that can't be his.

And then, then the knife – it has to be a knife, it's gone. It's all gone.

And there are soft hands, soft flutters, warm. It's home and beautiful, and he knows the feeling.

It's safety.

And the hood's coming off and colors are brighter, warmer, more real. And there's a bright flash of copper, beautiful, real.

And a soft voice in his ear, a murmur that makes his back arch in pleasure, even as the blood dripping down his side reminds him of the pain he should be feeling. And he should be more careful, should be in pain. But there's pale skin, fingers caressing his cheeks. Tears being wiped away.

The flutter of lips on his.

It's never been better than this. Never been closer, realer. Never felt like he was being poured out and remade with someone else's touch. But it does, body expanding filling the room in the way the Force never lets him do.

And Hux.

Hux takes him apart, creates him anew. And he takes the pain away, just as he always says he will. He gathers Ben to him and strokes down his back, horror sloughing off with each pass of those delicate fingers. And Hux's clean smell in his nose, filling him, permeating his bones like the very power of the universe. And he doesn't have the Force now, isn't allowed to. But sometimes, sometimes...

He has this.

***

Leia yells.

She tries not to yell at anyone of her staff. It's hard, sometimes, but she usually manages. Even in the tensest moments, she can stay calm, keep them calm. She's been doing this for a lifetime, after all.

But now, now she screams. And the young lieutenant shrinks back, cringing. Leia takes a deep breath. And when she lets it out, her voice is calmer.

“Our spy reported _what?_ ” She can't keep the incredulity out though.

“Ben Solo, General Organa. They said... they said they saw him.” The lieutenant's voice drops to a whisper, they've been through this before. But Leia has to hear again, has to listen one more time. She might believe this time, after all.

“They're sure?” Of course they are. Her son, with his dark hair, sloping shoulders, huge frame, he isn't someone to mistake.

“Yes. He was walking down a corridor in the Imperial palace. Next to Emperor Hux.” And it shouldn't be so surprising. She remembers, has watched Ben collapse into the Emperor's arms in the hundreds of replays of a recording, watched as he clutches desperately to the Emperor as he never has to her.

But she doesn't want to believe this.

Clinging to the man who stops someone from torturing you, that she understands. Grasping to the one light in the dark. But not walking down a palace hall, walking at the side of a man Ben should hate. A man Ben has fought against for years. Maybe not directly, but fought against, just the same.

And this time Leia doesn't scream. No, this time she simply sinks into her chair, head in her hands. And if she cries, the lieutenant has slipped out, can't see her tears.

***

Hux is tired. It's been a long day, negotiations, planets to bring into the fold. He wants to go back to his quarters, sink into the warm bath that is waiting. It's a luxury, but he's the Light-damned Emperor of the galaxy, and if he can't indulge in a bath once and a while, he might as well quit.

He won't, of course.

And he won't go back to his rooms, pull out a datapad and ease his aching muscles. Today is the day he visits Solo, and he doesn't want to miss this visit. It's been a week since the last one, since he'd kissed Solo as drugs coursed through the Jedi's veins. He needs to return, to make sure Solo knows he'll always come back, always be there.

And so he drags himself down the corridor that leads to Solo's cell. Today, today he knows they arranged something special for Solo. He'd listened to the recordings himself, before he'd approved them. Pain isn't enough, hasn't been enough for Solo to break, to actually tell them anything about the Resistance. He's sobbed into Hux's arms, held him close, but he hasn't broken. And Hux is hoping, hoping that this is the straw that breaks the bantha's back

The best part of things is that the recordings aren't even doctored.

They're old, of course, from long before Ben Solo became a fully fledged member of the Resistance, a flashing blade at the front of their most elite forces. But real they are. And damning for it. Organa's voice, hushed words of fear, worry over her only son's power. His temper. Luke Skywalker's responses, promising a close eye, a firm hand. Organa's terror as she hears about one or another of Solo's exploits.

Hux almost wishes he'd known that young man, known the boy who'd thrown another padawan across a room in sparring practice, breaking a wall. But only almost.

This is better. And he's reminded of it as he opens the door, sees Solo rocking in a corner of the cell.

“Ben? Ben, it's me.” And Solo makes a soft noise, what might be a hiccup of someone who has no more room for tears. “I'm here for you Ben. I'm not afraid of you.” And he pulls the hood off. Ben's eyes are red beneath it, emptied. He's got snot running down his face, spit flecking his lips. All in all, not a pretty picture. But Hux uses his sleeve to wipe it away, to wipe him clean. (He likes the look. Likes how Ben looks, broken and afraid.)

“H-Hux? W-what was that?”

“What?” He feigns innocence. He tries never to let Solo think that he knows what the interrogators are doing. It's a silly fiction, one that is easily debunked, but Solo never seems to.

“They played...” he coughs, chokes on tears, “They played a recording of my mother. She... she's afraid of me. She wanted Luke to keep tabs on me. I..” He stutters, starts again. “I always thought she had me trained because she knew how great I could be. But I was wrong, _wrong!_ She just... just wanted to get rid of me.” Hux runs a hand through Solo's greasy hair, tips his chin upward.

“I don't want to get rid of you, Ben. I never will, as long as you're good for me.” And Ben nods. But then he's surging forward, pressing his lips to Hux's in a clumsy kiss. And Hux can't stop himself, hand swinging out, cracking across Ben's wet cheekbone. And Ben falls backward, stunned and cringing.

“Don't you dare touch me without permission, Ben. I said I would keep you, _as long as you're good for me_ , and now you've made me angry. Did you know, I was going to hold you for a while, stay here, take time out of my incredibly busy schedule just to spend it with you. But now,” Hux stands, walks away with Ben's huge tearfilled eyes on him. “Now I don't think I will. I think I'll leave you here to consider what you really want.”

“Hux! Hux... please!” His name sounds sweet as Ben sobs. But he shuts the door after him. Ben has to learn.

***

He's won.

It's a flicker in his mind, a kind of warmth that Hux likes more than anything else. It's better than booze, than sex, than the feeling of bones breaking under his fingers. Because he's finally won.

And Ben Solo is kneeling at his feet, babbling every secret he knows.

(They're all out of date, useless, but that doesn't matter. And it just makes it all the more obvious that Solo is telling the truth.)

Because he's raising Solo up, looking in his eyes. And he's smoothing his hair back, wrapping a hand around Solo's neck.

“You've made the right choice, Ben. You're mine now, for real. You'll never have to go back to the interrogators. You'll never have to have anyone else. Come.” And Solo trots after him, Force-dampening cuffs still on but also a shirt and pants, naked no longer. And he's smiling, oddly blank to be sure, but smiling at Hux as they walk.

“I'm taking you to my quarters. You'll stay there from now on. If you do very well, you might even get to sleep in the bed.” And Solo makes a whimpering, pleading noise in response to that that Hux likes quite a lot. He suspects Solo will try very hard to be good.

Hux likes to think they'll both enjoy it when he's bad. But he knows that Solo won't, and that makes it even sweeter.

But for now he simply shows Solo around, shows him the pallet at the foot of Hux's bed that he'll be sleeping on most nights. It's big enough for his long legs, but thin, so thin, nothing compared to the feather mattress. Yet Hux would wager his crown on the fact that if Ben had the bed, and he the pallet, Ben would try to crawl down off the bed to reach him.

It's just as he hoped, as he imagined.

***

Leia watches Imperial broadcasts sometimes. It's important to know what the other half of the galaxy is saying publicly, what they want people to believe.

It's usually politics, usually government channels that she preoccupies herself with. Yet this time, for some reason, she has flipped to one of the infinite cesspools of gossip that the Empire seems to love projecting across space. They're doing a special on the Emperor.

Leia would be lying if she tried to deny that's why she's still watching it.

He's a confusing figure, with a soft caress for Ben on the security footage, a cold look in his eyes. And now, seeing a broadcast promising “a day in the life of Emperor Hux,” she hadn't been able to turn away.

So far it has been the usual drivel about meetings, luncheons, how Hux hardly ever takes a moment to himself, always working for the betterment of the Empire. It sets her teeth on edge. But now the host is finally moving on from long flowery speeches about Hux's political acuity.

“...What does our Emperor do to relax? It's something all you viewers would love to know!” There's a flash of footage from a sparring arena, Hux stripped to the waist, ducking a punch. That takes more than a few moments, the Emperor dancing around his opponent, a huge woman with blonde hair. Then the host cuts in again. “Well there's physical sparring, a bout with the famous Captain Phasma of the Imperial guards. But for all of you who think that looks more like work than pleasure” a forced laugh, “I bring you exclusive footage from the Imperial gardens, Emperor Hux out on an afternoon walk.” At first Leia glances halfheartedly at the projector.

Then she's on the edge of her seat.

Hux strolls through the garden, stride loose and calm. But her eyes are locked on the man beside him.

It's been months since they've been able to acquire another piece of security footage. Months since she's even heard a whisper about Ben. She'd wondered... thought... but it's not true, and she won't let herself think about it now.

Because it's Ben at the Emperor's side. And he's looking at Hux, eyes wide and... worshipful. And their hands are twined together.

***

Dameron comes to her, a few weeks later. Voice worried, kind.

“We're concerned for you, General. You've been obsessing over this. Lieutenant Connix says you've watched the Imperial broadcasts every day for the past three weeks.” Leia shrugs. If this is the only way she can get a glimpse of her son, so be it.

The holoprojector buzzes in the background, an alert telling her that a gossip channel has an exclusive on Emperor Hux. She shrugs Dameron off, turns to the projector.

“Live from the capital city, this is GalaxyBuzz! We bring you the latest on the movers and shakers of the Empire, from the holo-stars to the Emperor himself. And tonight we've go exclusive footage from inside the Imperial Palace. Earlier tonight Emperor Hux brought together some of the most important members of the Empire for a celebration of the most recent additions to Imperial territory. And it is our great pleasure to report that the Emperor must have had a different sort of celebration after the festivities.” The picture shifts, focusing on Hux and another man, in the swirl of brightly dressed party-goers it was showing before. The man next to him is beautifully dressed, black tunic embroidered with First Order's symbol, the symbol of the new Empire. At his belt hangs a silver length.

It's with a start that Leia realizes he's wearing the uniform of a Jedi, an almost perfect copy of old holo's of Anakin Skywalker's dress, with the addition of the Imperial crest. And as she watches, the Emperor leans over, whispers something into the other man's ear. And they both seem to be laughing. Then... oh then... the Emperor kisses the man next to him, full on the lips, hard and pointed.

“We have it on good authority, good folk, that the Emperor's companion is none other than the famous Ben Solo, grandson of Darth Vader himself. We'd ask how the Emperor found such a good catch, but we suspect it comes with the territory. And it definitely looks like the two are close...” The recording zooms in, and splotches are visible dotting Ben's throat, bright patches of the Emperor's affection, and the host is speaking again.

Leia doesn't hear.

And Dameron shuts off the recording, tries to say something to her. But she can't hear that either.

She cries herself to sleep that night.

***

It's the smell that first lets Hux know that Ben's home. Acrid, ozone mixing with blood, the smell of burnt flesh. And then Ben's inside the room, dark hair, dark tunic, dark and tall. And he's falling to his knees the moment he sees Hux. It's a work of beauty.

“Have you done as I asked, my knight?” He makes sure to emphasize the possessive. It helps, even now. But he's already walking forward, eager to have what he's been aching for while Ben was away.

“Of course, Hux. I'll,” Ben gasps as Hux runs a hand through his hair, wanting. “I'll always do as you say. You know it.” Hux pulls his hand away to a whimper, but it's only to run one down Ben's chest, feel at the dampness of his tunic. When he pulls his hand away, it's stained red.

“Any of this yours?” Ben shakes his head, and Hux breathes a sigh of relief. It's more painful than he'd ever have imagined, seeing Ben return when someone else has hurt him. “Good. Then take those rags off. It's been too long.” And Ben is stripping before him, baring that gorgeous skin.

There are still scars from the interrogators.

There always will be.

And they are there in Ben's mind too, in the broken way he watches Hux, the way he leans forward, aching, needing. In the way he kills, swinging his red blade through anyone Hux tells him is an enemy. In the way he shadows Hux, a dog following its master, a compass pointed to Hux's north, never wavering.

In the way he struggles upward at Hux's gesture, makes his way to the bed. Lays himself down on it, legs splayed, open.

It's a pretty picture.

There's a streak of blood across his chest, and Hux thinks for a moment of making him clean it away. But seeing Ben spread out on the bed, hole gaping and ready for his fingers, his cock, he can't wait. There's something fitting about it, fucking in the blood of the enemies that will never touch him now that Ben has wiped them away. Fucking with blood around them, just as Ben has tied himself to Hux with the drops of his own blood splattered across an interrogation room.

Hux is on the bed now too, reaching across to slick up a finger, slide it in. And Ben is open, so open that Hux knows he must have touched himself just a few hours ago, aching for Hux's touch.

“Such a little slut. Who'd have ever thought Organa's son would turn out like this, my pretty little whore? Well, she didn't want to keep you. But I do.” He drives a finger deeper, makes Ben cry out in pleasure-pain. “I give you what you need, don't I Ben? I let you kill, destroy, unmake. And I fuck you, just like you need, like you want.”

Ben nods, desperate. And it's sweet, like honeyed wine. It's better.

And Hux pushes in, ignores how Ben isn't ready. Ben's crying now, tears slipping out down his cheeks. But he's begging too, a litany of Hux's name, a prayer that blasphemes against everything Hux knows he held dear.

And he's sliding forward, Ben's body yielding to him. And he rakes fingers down Ben's chest as he pushes into that slick heat, into the body that is all his now. Ben cries out. Hux leans forward, bites hard at his shoulder. He wants Ben's blood too, Ben's pain, Ben's soul. Because they're his, have been pledged to him forever more.

“Hux! Hux, please.” And Ben is arching up off the bed, trying to get more contact without using his hands. Hux doesn't like him to do that without permission.

“If you want me closer, pull me there.” And Ben understands. There's the caress of phantom hands at his back, the strange immaterial weight of the universe pulling them together. And Hux feels ready to shake apart at that, at the fact that a Jedi, the one hope of the Resistance, that Jedi is using the Force to pull him closer, to force him to fuck harder, drive deeper.

It's petty, and wrong, and just what Hux needs.

He groans, cups Ben's face with his grasping fingers. And then he covers Ben's mouth with his, bites those lips, the mouth that breathes the power of the universe with every gasp. And Ben arches against him, friction just enough on his cock that Hux can feel Ben's release between them, slick and wet and sudden.

It's enough to pull him over the edge too, for him to pound a few more times into Ben, to empty himself into that waiting hole. He rolls off after a moment, pants into Ben's shoulder.

“Ben. I have a question for you.” Ben nods, eyes fuzzy, exhausted. “You could have gone back to them, you know. You were alone on this mission, completely free to do what you want.” And Hux doesn't continue, doesn't even want to voice the question. Ben raises himself up a little on his elbow, looks at where Hux is still splayed on the bed, boneless. The scars from the interrogators shine bright on his skin.

“Why would I ever want to do that, Hux?”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for a while, guys. And I had to do *research* for it!
> 
> Thank you dear prompter. I hope this works for you!
> 
>  
> 
> _He’s nervous, nervous each time he sends Ben out on a mission, sends him to face the Resistance. At first, it was because he was scared Ben wouldn’t come back to him. And Hux can admit that to himself now, can acknowledge that he wondered if it had worked, if he had bound Ben tightly enough to him in a web of pain and fear and anger._
> 
>  
> 
> _But now, well now he’s sure. Has been sure since Ben fought his way though a mass of Resistance soldiers bent on capturing him, through a swarm of men bent on stealing him away from Hux, from the Emperor’s grasp._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hux hadn’t known that Ben was back, that time. And the memory is sharp, even now, harsh and painful. He’d been in meetings the entire day, nose buried in a datapad. And so, when he’d absently pushed open the door to his quarters in the palace, he hadn’t been able to conceal his shock, his horror._
> 
>  
> 
> _Ben had been curled beside his desk, curled up as he always is when he’s not on a mission and Hux is working. But he’d been gasping a little, breath a pained wheeze. And when Hux had come in, he’d looked up with eyes tight with fear, with blood streaking his face._
> 
>  
> 
> _And Hux, well Hux had dropped the datapad, the clatter distant as he rushed to Ben’s side. And he’d stroked careful hands over Ben, petting, feeling out the injury that scored across Ben’s ribs._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Ben. Oh, Ben. What happened?” And he’d wanted to ask why Ben was here, why he wasn’t in the medcenter, but Ben gazed up at him with those huge eyes, and Hux couldn’t find the will to put the bite the question needs into it._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Bowcaster bolt,” Ben wheezed. “Wookie. Han Solo’s wookie. Didn’t want me to come back to you. Hux… Hux, I’ll always come back. Solo doesn’t understand, they all don’t. You’re.. Hux…” It was a choked gasp. And Hux had fumbled for the comlink, frantic in a way he’d never expected._
> 
>  
> 
> _Later, when Ben had been ensconced in the medcenter where he belonged, Hux had stood beside him, stroked his hair through the pain as he had so many times before. And then, then he’d finally been able to put the force into his words that they needed._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Don’t you dare do this again, Ben. I can’t lose you. Don’t you dare ignore something like this, come to my quarters before getting help. I can’t lose you.” And Ben had smiled, lazy and drugged, nuzzled into Hux hand, murmured assent._
> 
>  
> 
> _So now, now each time he goes to destroy the Emperor’s enemies, now Hux doesn’t worry that he will turn away from the Empire, turn back to the Resistance and to the Jedi. No, Hux is terrified because each time he closes his eyes, he sees Ben’s blood spreading across his floor, blood that should be his alone to shed._


End file.
